Remembering…

Well if you haven’t noticed, I have been a little MIA on the blog for a while…Okay, for a long time. I guess I haven’t really wanted to write about what has been going on because it wasn’t that great.

Over the July 4^th weekend our little Scioscia lost her battle with Feline Leukemia and moved on to a better place with the assistance of our vet. It was hard for us…really hard… like I still cry now thinking about it hard, but we both feel at peace with the choice we made. She never was in pain but her quality of life had just deteriorated to a point that it was just not worth making her stay around and fight, because she would have.

It was so peaceful and we stayed with her the entire time. If you ever have to make the choice of putting a pet down, stay with them. My family did this with out beloved dog of 12 years, Emma, and now with our little Scioscia. I held her the entire time and told her that we loved her, that God had a strong body waiting for her and that we would see her again. The vet prepared us for some of the biological things that can happen with death, but Scioscia just laid her head down and fell asleep in seconds. I think when you prepare your pet and tell them that you will be ok, they are able to let go of their physical body. Their loyalty is a hard thing to break.

We buried her in her favorite place in the backyard, between the two queen palm trees in the corner. It is nice to have a place to look at and remember her. I feel in my heart that there is life after death and there is no doubt in my mind that even little animals get to go there after their time on this earth. I remember after finding out that Scioscia was sick God telling me “The reason I gave Scioscia to you was because I wanted to her to have as much love as possible during her short time on this earth.” I will never forget hearing those words and I am pretty sure that if God wanted Todd and me to love the heck out of Scioscia, we did a good job.

I think anytime you lose a pet, a friend or a family member it makes you question what comes after this earth life. Everyone once in a while I still have a panicked moment of “what if I never get to see her again?” but then something comes over me, something calm and reassuring. It fills me with warmth and lets me know that our brief time on this earth is not all there is.

When Scioscia died, I think she let both Todd and I know that she had moved on in a way that would speak loudly to us.

For Todd it was with the Angels winning their game the day she died. Not only did the Angels win, but their game was televised, something that rarely happens in Arizona. He told me that night he was sure it was Scioscia telling him she was alright now.

I had found some comfort in a poem called Rainbow Bridge:

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... 

The afternoon after Scioscia died I was spending time with my sisters when my sister Laura called me outside and pointed to the sky. There, for just a brief few minutes, the most incredible full rainbow filled the sky. All I could say was “she is telling me that she is in heaven.”

To our wonderful Scioscia,

You will never be forgotten. Your time on this earth was so brief but you filled our life with such joy. If we had the choice to do it all again, even knowing the grief we would feel, we would do it in a heartbeat. Thank you for loving us so unconditionally.

We love you,

-Todd and Heidi

May 6...

If you are my friend on Facebook you probably have a little bit of an idea why May 6^th has been one of the worst days of my life to date. It was one of the most emotional draining days I have ever had and all I can say is good riddance it is in the past.

Friday was a little bit of a busy day for House of Jaramillo. Todd was scheduled to have his second go at shoulder surgery to repair a torn labrum and a rotator cuff.  He decided since we both would be home for a three-day weekend, it would be the perfect day to schedule Scioscia’s teeth cleaning at the bet.

The day started out normal; I dropped Todd off and then ran home, picked up Scioscia and took her to the vet. After spending a little time with Todd in pre-op I gave him a kiss and settled down in the waiting room.  About 45 minutes after leaving Todd, the vet called me and said Scioscia had lost about a pound and she was a little worried about the weight loss. She said she wanted to check Scioscia for Feline Leukemia. At first I hesitated, I hadn’t noticed anything strange about Scioscia’s behavior and thought the vet was just trying to get some extra money. I even had her ask another tech that had seen Scioscia before if she thought she looked too skinny. Scioscia regularly fluctuates between 4 and 5 pounds when we take her to the vet.  Even though the tech didn’t notice too much of a difference, the vet was still convinced something wasn’t right. I agreed to let her do the test.

About 15 minutes later I got the worst call of my life. “Heidi, this is Scioscia’s vet, she is testing positive for Feline Leukemia.”

My heart started to race. How could this be possible? Just an hour earlier she was rubbing up on my legs begging me to give her the breakfast she so very much loved. Now she was the vet with leukemia? I felt so alone sitting in the OR waiting room. I tried to hold back tears as the vet explained in non-emotional medical terms what this meant for Scioscia…

“weak immune system….tumors”

She said it was important that they still clean Scioscia’s teeth to help clear out any bacteria. I hung up and sat numb for a moment trying to process what she had just said. I so desperately wanted Todd to be right by my side knowing what questions to ask and telling me it would be ok. Even though he was only yards away, I felt like we weren’t even on the same planet.

I called my mom and could hardly get the words “leukemia” out before the tears started to choke out. I called my sisters, both immediately said they were leaving work to come sit with me. I declined telling them by the time they got to the hospital Todd would be out of surgery.

I tried to get comfortable in the couch I had been sitting in. I suddenly felt panicked. Sitting in that waiting room, nothing seemed safe anymore. The certainty I felt that everything was going to go smoothly turned into paranoia.

“What if things are not ok with Todd in surgery? What if the leukemia makes it so Scioscia can’t handle the anesthesia? How am I going to tell Todd about Scioscia?”

I felt cold and it seemed my whole body was shaking. The seconds seemed to stretch for hours as I battled the big pit of sadness that opened in my stomach.  I tried desperately to hold back tears. Sitting in a hospital waiting room isn’t the place you want to be crying.

My fear only increased when the receptionist received call saying they needed Mrs. Jaramillo in a consultation room. I had just seen the doctor come out and talk to someone and couldn’t figure out why I needed to be in a consultation room. Sitting in the empty room I prayed for strength to just make it through the next few hours.  I am sure the relief was apparent through my red-teary eyes when the doctor told me Todd’s surgery went great and they were just stitching him up.  

“It shouldn’t be long until he is awake and you can see him.”

I waited. A half-hour passed. I waited. An hour passed, patients came with their families, the anesthesiologist grabbed lunch. Nobody came to tell me about Todd.

I thought about Scioscia and cried. I thought about telling Todd about Scioscia and cried. I thought about why Todd wasn’t out of surgery and cried. I felt completely wound up.

Finally a nurse came to tell me that the anesthesia was making Todd very sick and he still was not fully awake. I waited another half hour before I could actually go back to see him.

I held my breath as I turned the corner into Todd’s recovery room. The poor thing was completely green and his eyes were barely able to stay open. I sat with him for about 15 minutes feeding him ice chips; the truth about Scioscia was hanging over me.

“Todd, when you are more coherent I really need to tell you something”

He didn’t really process what I said. A half hour later when he started to get some color back into him and between the nurse coming and going out of his room I let it out.

“It’s about Scioscia. The vet called me and she has leukemia.”

I packed up Todd in silence. The combination of anesthesia and nausea didn’t lend for a great discussion about what our game plan was.  We loaded Todd into the Jeep; I sobbed the whole way home.

Immediately at home I started to jump into research mode. I scoured the internet for any and all information I could get about Feline Leukemia. I cried when I read about the tumors. I cried when I read how it can be spread to other cats.

I called the vet at 4:30 to tell them I was coming to pick up Scioscia. I couldn’t wait for their call. I felt like I needed her with me right then.

So here is where we stand now. There is no cure for Feline Leukemia. Scioscia will not live as long as other cats. I have accepted those truths. However, I have hope in the fact that Leukemia is not a death sentence like it used to be. By Sunday night I already had my game plan in motion and a number of holistic herbs and supplements ready to ship on Monday.  My goal is keep her immune system as strong as possible. Cats don’t actually die from the Leukemia, but from other infections that their immune systems can’t fight off. If I can keep her healthy and stress free, there is a good chance that we have a few years left with little Scioscia. The vet was actually surprised Scioscia had lived this long without proper treatment. She is my little fighter.

When I was taking my shower of Friday, God spoke to me loud and clear. (Yes, God usually talks to me when I am in the shower/tub. I think it must be the time he knows I won’t be distracted and able to pick up the message)

 “The reason I gave Scioscia to you was because she deserved the most love possible during her short time on this earth”

It was the first time I felt peace and calm the entire day. I know that loving Scioscia unconditionally is very much something Todd and I can do for her.

I will update you on how the treatment is going,

-Mrs. J